


baby mine, don't you cry

by im2old4thisotp



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Married Couple, Stydia, Stydia Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 02:10:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15160112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im2old4thisotp/pseuds/im2old4thisotp
Summary: "Look...I come from a long line of excellent Stilinski fathers. And if there’s anything that Dad has taught me, it’s that most of the time we’re not going to have any idea what we’re doing, and we are going to feel guilty about it every single step along the way.”Lydia cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well, that’s...comforting.”“Isn’t it, though? I tried to tell him that letting me know about my parental incompetence before I even became a parent was really counter-productive.”





	baby mine, don't you cry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afineskyline (claudia_allison_stilinski)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudia_allison_stilinski/gifts).



> I just finished a big fic for another fandom and needed to get some Stydia in my life again. I hope you enjoy this one-shot that became a two-shot because I am completely unable to keep my chill and my word count to a minimum. Also, endings.

*******************  
  


Stiles heard the car door slam and looked at his watch.  _ Damn it. Time’s up. _

 

He arranged the crocheted blanket he had been folding and backed out of the room, scanning it to make sure nothing was out of place. Satisfied with how everything looked, he stepped through the doorway and shut the door behind him.

 

At that moment, the front door opened and shut.

 

“Stiles? I’m home!”

 

Lydia’s voice floated up the stairs of their condo, and he hurried down the stairs. He tried not to rush, to sound like a herd of elephants tumbling down the steps, but he could barely contain himself. 

 

“Hi babe!” He internally winced at the extra-squeaky strain in his voice. There’s no way she didn’t notice  _ that _ . He had to get it together. He was excited to see her, of course, but she had just gotten in the door and he didn’t want to overwhelm her. She was just toeing off her heels, her eyes closed and breathing deeply. She had one hand on the front door knob for balance, and he grabbed the messenger bag with her laptop in it before she could even get it off her shoulder. He put it on the shelf just inside the front door, laying a kiss on her cheek before wrapping his arms around her.

 

“Welcome home,” he nuzzled into the side of her neck. She hummed softly and wrapped her arms on top of his, threading their fingers together as she leaned into his chest.

 

“Hi,” she said with a shy smile. He laid kisses from her collarbone to her ear, pulling her close against his front. Lydia angled her neck a bit more for him, and laughed softly. “God, you act like you haven’t seen me in years. It’s been 8 hours.”

 

“Eight hours and 37 minutes,” he corrected into her neck. “And I can’t help it. This was your last day at work. I get you all to myself now.” He squeezed her hands and kissed the soft skin under her ear.

 

“Not forever. I’ll be back to work in no time.”

 

Stiles pulled his hands back and turned Lydia gently to face him, getting down on his knees on the rug in front of her. “Shh! Don’t remind me. I’m savoring the thought of those morons trying to deal without you.”

 

Lydia chuckled at him. “Morons, Stiles? The research department at MIT is full of morons?”

 

Stiles grinned at her. “Yep. I fully expect them to call you at least three times a day while you’re gone.”

 

Lydia smiled at him and leaned down, her hands cupping the sides of his face gently before placing a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m placing my bets on five.”

 

She stood upright, and Stiles leaned his forehead against her extremely swollen belly. “And how about you, little slugger?” He spoke gently to her midsection. “Did you enjoy  _ your _ last day of work?”

 

Lydia rolled her eyes. Her hand drifted to where her waist used to be, and patted it gently. “I’d say so. He was jumping on my bladder the entire afternoon, I barely got through any of my meetings without having to go pee every fifteen minutes.”

 

“Did you not let mom have a break today, mister?” Stiles said, his hands caressing the sides of Lydia’s swollen belly.

 

“No, he did  _ not _ ,” Lydia said decisively.

 

“Well, it won’t be long now,” Stiles said, speaking again to her belly. “We get to meet you in  _ two weeks _ .”

 

Lydia tugged on Stiles’ shirt and gave him another kiss before turning to walk into the kitchen.

 

Stiles followed her from behind, checking her out as they went. “How is it that you  _ still _ don’t look pregnant from the back?” Lydia turned sideways, revealing the belly that very distinctly stuck straight out from her middle—Lydia called it The Torpedo—and raised a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow at him.

 

“I swear sometimes, I think I’m going to fall over like that wobble penguin toy that your dad bought for the baby. Between my boobs and this bowling ball I’m carrying around in my abdomen, I’m all top-heavy.”

 

Stiles slid up next to her, wrapping one arm around her and kissing her gently on the forehead. “Well, I think you look incredible like this.”

 

“It has nothing to do with the fact that my boobs are spilling out of my bra all the time, right?”

 

“Oh, I mean, that’s just a  _ bonus _ ,” he smirked at her. “Seriously, though, are you feeling okay? Can I make you some tea?”

 

Lydia walked over to the couch (Stiles would  _ never _ tell her that she waddled. Never. He valued his life way too much.) and sank into it. “Oh god, yes. That would be amazing. And...maybe some of those kalamata olives you picked up from Sonoma?” 

 

“Olives and tea. Coming right up.”

 

He watched her struggle to get comfortable, pulling at her dress and tucking pillows around her until she finally found a position where she could relax. It was much the same as it was at night, though it took even longer for her to find comfort in their bed these days.

 

“Were they sad to see you go today?”

 

“Of course. But we’re at a good holding point in the research, so they’re going to do more data input and analysis while I’m out on leave. The practical experimentation will wait until I get back.”

 

While she was talking, he pulled out the box of chamomile tea bags and poured water from the hot kettle he had boiled before she got home. The olives were in a bowl wrapped in cling wrap, and he grabbed it out of the fridge before he made his way back over to where she was leaned back against the arm of the couch.

 

“They’ll miss me, but we’ve been prepping for this for eight months, so they’ll be fine. They actually threw me a little shower at lunchtime. Oh! Which reminds me, I have stuff in the car.” She started to move to get up, but he shook his head at her.

 

“I’ll get them in a little bit, okay? Just relax.” She leaned back against the armrest again. She closed her eyes, her hands across her belly, and breathed deeply. He watched her, marveling over the way her hair had started to tumble out of the loose bun she kept it in. Her face was a little flushed—probably the result of the end of the long day—but the color made her look fresh and alive. She was gorgeous like this. He put the olives and the steeping tea on the coffee table, then sat down, pulling her stockinged feet into his lap and rubbing his thumbs into her arches. “Will you be fine? Being home?”

 

Her hands started to rub on the top of her belly. It sat large in her lap like this, with her feet outstretched. Stiles knew she had a limited amount of time leaning back like this before little man prevented her from breathing very well. “I’ll be fine with the job. They can call me or email me about it. But...with this?” She looked down at her burgeoning belly with hesitancy in her gaze. “This I’m not so sure.”

 

This was an all-too-familiar topic for the two of them at this point. Ever since they found out they were having a baby, Lydia had been low-level anxious about it. The usual worrying about the baby’s health and her own health, how her banshee powers affected the pregnancy, stuff like that. But Stiles knew her real anxiety was over if she would be able to be a good mother. If she’d be able to give the baby her full love and attention when she truly loved and was dedicated to her job. The last thing she wanted was to be like her father, who chose his career over Lydia, but she also wanted to make sure the baby knew that her career and her research was important. It was already making her feel guilty, and she had mentioned on more than one occasion that she didn't feel completely comfortable either way, because she felt guilty no matter what she decided to do.

 

Be it just like Lydia Stilinski to be ahead of the game, even in the Mommy Guilt department.

 

“I keep telling you about how great you’re going to be.”

 

She was looking down at her belly, her fingertips gentle on top of it. “I know, but—”

 

“—No. No buts. Look...I come from a long line of excellent Stilinski fathers. And if there’s anything that Dad has taught me, it’s that most of the time we’re not going to have any idea what we’re doing, and we are going to feel guilty about it every single step along the way.”

 

Lydia cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well, that’s...comforting.”

 

“Isn’t it, though? I tried to tell him that letting me know about my parental incompetence before I even became a parent was really counter-productive.”

 

Stiles pulled one hand off of her foot and leaned over to place it on top of her belly, lacing her fingers in his. “But he also told me that because we love each other, it will be fine. We’ll figure everything out together. And when you don’t know what to do, I’ll step up, and when I’m lost, I  _ know _ you’ll tell me what to do.”

 

She smiled the half-smile that she reserved just for him. She’d given it to him on a few occasions when he told her something that she knew in her heart but couldn’t quite believe—on a bed with red string around her fingers, and now, when she knows she’ll be a good mom, even when she can’t imagine it. She slid one of her hands out from under his, and wrapped her hand around his forearm, pulling him toward her. 

 

“You bet your ass I will.” He smiled softly and leaned in to meet her, the soft kiss pressed between them acting as a promise.

 

When she pulled back, she leveled him with a stern gaze. “Okay, now. What is it?”

 

Stiles looked confused. “What do you mean?”

 

“You’ve been  _ off _ since I got home. Running down the stairs, bouncing around, extra-attentive to my needs..”

 

“Hey now, I’m always attentive!”

 

“Yes, but not like  _ this _ . And you’re chewing your nails again. You don’t do that unless you’re really on edge. So what is it?”

 

Stiles cursed internally. She could read him like a book. He took a deep breath and sighed. He had wanted to tell her when she was a little more relaxed, not while she was thinking she was going to be a bad mom. Maybe after a bubble bath, or something. But Lydia was determined, and once she realized that he had something he needed to say, she’d be a bulldog about it until he got it out. It was one of the commitments they’d made to each other when they got married. Their lives dealt with so much secrecy as it was—keeping the supernatural under wraps and all—they swore it wouldn’t be like that within their relationship. “Okay, I...I have something to show you. And I’m nervous to tell you, and also excited. Maybe like, 98% excited, 2% scared. Or maybe 98% scared and 2% excited.”

 

“Are you quoting  _ Armageddon _ at me again?”

 

He flailed his arms out from under her feet. “That movie is a  _ classic _ , and Ben Affleck is seriously underrated in it.”

 

“You’re letting your Batman opinions seriously cloud your judgement.”

 

“Okay, First of all, you’re wrong. Second, you throwing Batman knowledge at me is seriously hot. Third, and the _point_ _is_ , I’m not sure if you’re going to like what I have to show you or not. I kind of...well, just…”

 

Lydia took one of his nervous hands between hers and kissed his fingertips. “I’ll never know if you don’t actually  _ tell me _ .”

 

Stiles pushed off the couch and turned, holding a hand out to her. “Okay, come on.”

 

She looked at him in confusion for a moment, but shrugged and put her hands in his, and he gently helped her off the sofa. He led the way up the stairs, walking behind her to make sure she didn’t topple over—she really was off-balance these days. At one point, she stopped and held onto the railing for a few moments, breathing deeply, but she shooed him off when he tried to help, so he let her go.

 

When they reached the top of the stairs, he led her in front of the bedroom door that he had quickly closed when she got home.

 

She gestured to the closed door. “I need to get to work on this nursery. I had a couple of things ordered, and we got the paint that one time, but I just haven’t been able to do it. I closed the door so that maybe it would just...happen? And mom was going to come and help me but she went on that cruise instead, and… I was hoping to work on it now that I have off, but I’m so fat and ugly and...tired all the time.”

 

She was taking some deep, slow breaths, and she looked so pitiful that Stiles’ heart broke a bit. “You could never be fat  _ or _ ugly. You’re  _ pregnant _ . And I think you’re a goddess 90-percent of the time anyway, but now that you're pregnant? Wow. Seriously gorgeous.” He smiled at her. ”And don’t worry about the nursery. We’ve been working like crazy. But now you're off work, and I'm working shorter days. Don't feel guilty. I’m nothing but proud of you.”

 

“You’ve been busy, too, with your caseload at work. It’s just embarrassing—how many babies enter the world and don’t have a nursery put together for them?” Her head dropped to her chest. “I’m a terrible mom before I have even started.”

 

Stiles hated seeing her so self-doubting. Lydia Martin-Stilinski had always been a bulwark of confidence. But since getting pregnant and hormones and the misgivings she had in her own head, she’d been second-guessing everything about herself. She had put in hours of research, reading all of the pregnancy and baby-raising books she could find, and multiple times she has expressed frustration that there wasn't a single conclusion. Every book said different things. Some even contradicted each other! Most of the Mommy blogs said to “trust your instincts”—but, she asked him once, what if I don’t have any parental instincts? He wished she could see herself the way he saw her right now: radiant, full of life and strength, yet incredibly soft.

 

He lifted her chin. “Babe. My grandpa slept in a  _ drawer _ his first two years. Our little man will be  _ fine _ . No, not fine. He’ll be  _ amazing _ . As long as he’s loved, that’s what’s important, right? We will figure the rest of it out together.”

 

It took a moment, but Lydia finally nodded at him. “We always figure it out.”

 

“Yes we do. And the best thing? He is going to  _ love the shit out of you _ . Babies are like, programmed for that. He’s been falling in love with your warmth and the sound of your voice for almost nine months. That bond between you is only going to get stronger. I’m actually kind of jealous. He’s going to have the love of Lydia Stilinski his  _ entire life _ , the lucky bastard.”

 

She smiled briefly for a moment and looked up at him. “Well, you’re going to have it for the rest of yours, too.”

 

“Hell yes I am.” He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Now. I made you a present. Would you like to see it?”

 

Lydia nodded, and Stiles opened the bedroom door, his heart pounding with anticipation. He flipped on the light and stepped back, letting Lydia take in the full picture at once. He broke into a smile when he heard Lydia’s gasp.

 

“Oh my god,  _ Stiles _ .”

 

The last time she was in the room, it had been completely empty, with bare walls and some holes from the previous owners, a few piles of presents from the baby shower that the pack had hosted for them, and some boxes that they had never gotten around to unpacking.

 

Now as Lydia stepped into the room, the evening light filtered in through white gauzy curtains. The orange glow was casting a warm filter over the completed nursery, and Stiles was breathless with anticipation. Would she like it? The walls were painted with the soft gray that they had picked out together, with white crown molding at the ceiling, and white trim at the floor. The left-hand wall had a white dresser with a gray changing pad on top, the glider that Melissa had gifted them sat in the corner, with the white crib (that had taken Stiles 3 days to assemble) along the right-hand wall. On the floor, atop the neutral carpet, was a thick white fur rug. Lydia walked barefoot across it, her eyes scanning the room, when she stepped on a raise in the rug. She looked down, confused, noticed she was standing on a furry  _ head _ , then burst into laughter.

 

“You bought the wampa rug? You  _ dork _ .”

 

Stiles laughed out loud. He had seen the Star Wars-inspired rug for sale on the ThinkGeek website, and had nearly had an aneurysm. He hadn’t exactly  _ asked _ Lydia if they could get it, but he was banking on the fact that if it could be placed subtly enough, then she wouldn’t object. 

 

When they had discussed the room months ago, of course Stiles wanted a huge mural of the original trilogy plot on the wall, complete with a rocking AT-AT and an R2-D2 diaper pail. But Lydia had put her foot down. She wanted  _ classy _ , not quirky. So when he had put the nursery together, he kept the Stiles-specific geeky details to a minimum. Clean lines, simple diaper pail, copies of  _ Goodnight Moon _ and  _ Quantum Physics for Babies _ on the bookshelf. The room was positively Pottery Barn-esque, with (in Stiles’ opinion) a serious lack of overt Star Wars accoutrements. 

 

But, of course, this was  _ still _ a geek-parents’ kid, and Stiles did have a major hand in the decor. So for Lydia, above the dresser there was a trio of frames with the periodic table elements of Nobelium (No), Lanthanum (La), and Nitrogen (N). There was a gray fitted sheet on the bed with white outlines of binary code. For Stiles, it was the wampa rug.

 

Lydia walked around the room, her eyes wide open, touching all the small details: the quilt that belonged to her Grandma Lorraine on the back of the glider, the black and white photo of Stiles’ mom holding him as a baby on the small table next to the glider, the stack of tiny diapers shoved into a bin on the dresser.

 

Stiles leaned against the doorframe and watched her, wondering what she was thinking as she stood in front of the crib, looking up at Stiles’ favorite part of the room: two small (classy and subtle) lightsaber lighting fixtures on either side of a quote. Lydia read it out loud.

 

_ “‘I think you just can’t bear to let a gorgeous guy like me out of your sight. _ ” 

 

She looked over her shoulder at him, and he couldn’t help smirking at her. She crossed her arms. “All the incredible quotes out there from Thoreau, Einstein, Foucault, Coehlo to choose from, and you pick...Han Solo.”

 

Stiles shrugged. “It felt applicable.”

 

“You’re pretty assumptive, thinking he’s going to be gorgeous.”

 

“He’s your kid. Of  _ course _ he’ll be gorgeous.”

 

“I hope he looks like you.”

 

Stiles shook his head at her. “Oh god, no. With skinny legs and an uneven hairline and eyes that are too big?”

 

Lydia crossed the room and sidled up to him, her belly keeping her from pulling him too close, but wrapping her arms around his waist the best that she could. “I think you look handsome, Mr. Stilinski. I wouldn’t mind a mini-you.”

 

“But with your intelligence,” he added, wrapping his own arms around her shoulders.

 

“And your problem-solving.” Lydia looked at the ratty t-shirt he was wearing. “But my fashion sense.”

 

“Yeah, that’d probably be good.”

 

Lydia rested her head on his chest. “This is just one of the best things you’ve ever done for me. I love it, Stiles. Thank you.”

 

Stiles sighed with relief and put a kiss on top of her head. “Do you really?”

 

He felt her nod against his chest as she pulled him tighter. “I really do. You took the ideas that I had and you made them uniquely ours, just like this kid is going to be. I couldn’t have done it any better. How’d you have time to do this? You’ve been as busy as I’ve been.”

 

“Well, my case was local. So I’d use my lunch breaks to come back and work on it a little bit at a time. I painted when you went with Malia on her bachelorette trip.”

 

Lydia pulled back from him and looked at him accusingly. “I thought you went camping with Scott that weekend!”

 

Stiles grinned. “We did...kind of. He camped here in the living room. We painted, and then spent the rest of the weekend playing Mario Kart.”

 

“He actually kept that a secret?”

 

“ _ Malia _ actually kept that a secret.” He chucked at her suspicious eyebrow raise. “I know, I’m as shocked as you.”

 

Lydia shook her head and hid her face in his chest again. It was quiet for a few moments, and Stiles took the opportunity to rub his hands up and down her back gently. He almost missed it when she said in a near whisper, “I don’t deserve you.”

 

Stiles had to pull back to search her face. There’s no way she thought that. She reluctantly lifted her head to him and spoke before he could say anything.

 

“No, look, I know you’ll argue with me. But you’ve always,  _ always _ taken care of me. And right now it just seems like too much. I haven’t done nearly enough to warrant the goodness that you give me every day.”

 

He couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop it.”

 

“No, Stiles, I—”

 

“ _ —Lydia _ . Stop.” He took a few breaths, running his hands gently up and down her arms. His eye caught a glimpse of a frame that he had put up next to the door, a small black and white print of Lydia and him centered on the wide mat. It was a candid picture that Scott had taken at a pack barbecue one random Sunday afternoon. They were snuggled together on a lawn chair, and Stiles remembered he had been doing some frankly hilarious imitations of members of the pack. She was laughing, her head thrown back onto his shoulder, and his nose was buried in her neck. The smile lines around his eyes were deep as he laughed along with her. Scott had snapped the picture on his phone and sent it to Stiles later that night. He immediately made it his phone background. 

 

He took a deep breath, and pointed to the picture. “Do you remember that day?”

 

He felt Lydia hum her affirmation against his chest. He continued, “I don’t even know why we were all together. But you and I were being our usual sarcastic, snarky selves, making fun of the pack and Malia’s cooking and Scott’s newest stupid tattoo, and I remember thinking that I was the luckiest human alive, to get to hold you that way for the rest of my life.”

 

“Stiles…”

 

“No, I’m serious. Our lives are a mess. We’re constantly in danger, but we get these  _ moments _ of peace, and when we’re in them, I’m always overwhelmed by how goddamned lucky I am that you fell in love with me. It is an  _ honor _ to get to take care of you, and to help you feel seen and cared for and loved. I don’t have supernatural strength or healing or the ability to see death—thankfully—” Lydia smiled softly at that. “But, I  _ can _ make sure that you and our little man are loved. And by god, I’m going to do that.”

 

Lydia was blinking up at him when he finished, a look of sheer wonderment on her face. She lifted up to her tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck and holding him close.

 

“You already do. Every single day you take care of me and our son. I can’t wait for him to meet you so he knows how lucky he is to have a dad like youuuuuuohmygod.”

 

Lydia doubled over, one hand clutching her stomach, the other holding Stiles back. 

 

“Oh my god, Lydia! Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

 

“I—I’m fine, Stiles, I just—oh god—” She gritted her teeth and squinted her eyes.

 

His heart started to race as he realized she was in pain. He wanted to stand close to her, find out what was wrong, but she held her arm out, keeping him away. Had he squeezed her too tightly? Did he hurt her? He stepped back, giving her space, right into a wet spot on the rug.

 

“Why is the wampa rug wet? Did you pee on it because you actually hate it?”

 

Suddenly, like one of those Looney Tunes cartoons that he used to watch when he was a kid with Scott, he was hit with the anvil of awareness. 

 

He stood upright, and basically yelled. “Ohmygodyou’rehavingthebaby!”

 

Lydia, grimacing in pain, rolled her eyes in exasperation and nodded at him. Stiles sprung into...well, not action, because he wasn’t really sure what to do, but he definitely started flailing. And pacing.

 

“I have to get the bags, did we pack the bags yet? Oh yeah, we packed them, I remember I got super ambitious after our baby class and I think I remember you mocking me for it? Well, looks like it came in handy now! Ha! I need to put some different clothes on because I’ve been working in these and they’re gross. You probably need clothes too, huh? I’ll go get some clothes, or did  _ you _ want to get some clothes. Did you have contractions before this?”

 

He took a breath, and in the pause, Lydia asked, “Which question exactly do you want me to answer?”

 

He looked over at her to see her standing with her hands on her hips, considering him with amusement.

 

“Breathe, Stiles. I’m fine. I’ve been having low-level contractions all day, but they haven’t been bad at all. I thought they were Braxton-Hicks or something, but that one just caught me by surprise. And, also my water broke, so we need to go to the hospital.”

 

“The hospital. Right. Because we’re going to have a baby.”

 

Lydia smiled softly at him, her eyebrows raised in what could only be described as pure joy. “We’re going to have a baby.”

  
  


******************

 

TWO WEEKS LATER

 

******************

 

“Oh my god, this room is so cute! I’m so glad you wanted to take pictures in here.” Laura, their newborn photographer, had been at the house for an hour, taking photos of their new little family. She led them into baby Nolan’s room. “Okay, Stiles, why don’t you keep him against your chest so he’ll stay warm and sleepy while I take a couple of pictures of the room and get a setup ready for Nolan. Lydia, go ahead and sit. Relax for a little bit.”

 

They had just taken some snuggling pictures in their bedroom, and they had asked Laura for some pictures in the finished nursery. Stiles was shirtless, holding his son against his chest. Nolan was so perfectly content, sleeping skin-to-skin with his dad, and Stiles’ large hand covered his entire back. Nolan still had the amazing layer of dark hair over his entire back and neck, and Stiles had been jokingly calling him “Chewbacca” since he was born. He was secretly hoping it wouldn’t fall out like the books said it eventually would.

 

Stiles leaned his head down and laid a kiss on the soft downy hair on his son’s head. He then took in a deep breath, reveling in the addictive smell of new baby.

 

“Tell me, Nolan,” he said softly into the sleeping ear of his newborn. “How is it that the mixture of breastmilk, baby shampoo, and unscented wipes smells so  _ good _ ?”

 

“It’s actually residual smell from leftover amniotic fluid and vernix caseosa,” Lydia chimed in, her voice soft and sleepy.

 

He looked at her with confusion. “Verna what?”

 

“That white stuff that was all over him when he was born.”

 

“Aaannnnd I’m officially grossed out.” Stiles had thought something was  _ wrong _ when Nolan came out of Lydia covered in a horrifying mixture of chalky white goo and red blood. But the nurses had assured him it was totally fine, and a sponge bath later made him feel a lot better that he hadn’t spawned an alien baby or something. (Lydia had then reminded him that he wouldn’t have been so shocked about it if he had actually  _ watched _ the birthing video in class instead of spending the entire time dry-heaving in the bathroom.)

 

Lydia laughed. “You look good like that. The sexy dad thing totally works on you.”

 

Stiles flexed his arm muscles a bit, showing off. “Yeah? Will I still look good when he shits all over me again?”

 

“Hey—it got you shirtless, I’m not complaining.”

 

Laura’s voice interrupted them, full of joy where she sat on the floor. “I am  _ in love _ with this rug!” Stiles turned and saw her stuffing a couple of pillows she had brought underneath the wampa rug. “It has such great texture for photos!”

 

Stiles opened his mouth in joyous surprise and turned to Lydia. “See, Lydia? The rug is  _ great _ for photos!”

 

Lydia rolled her eyes at first, but then had a sudden look of concern. “Umm...that rug got washed, correct?”

 

“Yes. After we went to the hospital, I called Scott and had him come over. I told him I spilled white wine on it when you went into labor and I didn’t want it staining the floor.”

 

Lydia looked at him, impressed. “Good thinking!”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Okay,” Laura said from the floor. “We’re all set. I’ll start with some general pics here on the rug, but then I’d like to take a few where it looks like he’s being eaten by the monster. Mom? Is that okay with you?”

 

Stiles looked at her with pleading in his eyes. “Yeah, mom? Is it okay with you?”

 

Lydia rolled her eyes with a smile. “Yes, it’s fine with me. Stiles will love it.”

 

Stiles did a fist pump—gently, so he wouldn’t wake Nolan. “That one will definitely be going on my desk at work!”

 

Laura pushed off the floor and took Nolan from Stiles’ arms. He stepped back and knelt next to the glider where Lydia was sitting, leaning over the armrest to give her a gentle kiss on the temple before watching the photographer go to work.

 

“How are you doing, mama?” Stiles asked Lydia softly.

 

“I’m tired. Getting three people ready for these pictures was harder than I thought.”

 

“Especially when one of them thinks it’s his job to dribble his food out of his mouth onto his clothes constantly.”

 

Lydia smirked at him. “Yeah, and Nolan does that, too.”

 

Stiles’ mouth dropped open in feigned outrage. “Hey now, I only had to change shirts twice this morning.”

 

Lydia’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “Three times.”

 

Stiles sputtered. “That last one was  _ Nolan’s _ fault, not mine.”

 

“You’re blaming it on our son already? He’s only two weeks old!”

 

“Yeah, and old enough to be responsible for his actions!”

 

Lydia burst into quiet laughter, and Stiles internally cheered. They were all running on nearly-empty these days, Nolan waking up at all hours of the night to eat, and getting Lydia to laugh was more challenging. So whenever he managed it, he gave himself the victory.

 

“You two,” Laura’s voice drifted to them from behind her camera, “are completely adorable.”

 

“Why, thank you.” Stiles said with a smile. He grabbed onto Lydia’s hand, and she threaded their fingers together, leaning her head back against the headrest on the glider. She sighed a contented sigh, and they both watched Laura at work, tucking Nolan’s little feet underneath him, folding his arms this way and that.

 

“Can you believe we made that?” Stiles said to Lydia with a sense of awe. “Not only that, but we’ve kept it alive for  _ two whole weeks _ . Well,  _ you’ve _ kept it alive with that magic milk mojo that you’ve got going on.”

 

Lydia smiled a tired smile. “Yeah, I guess we have.”

 

He leaned his head into hers, and she snuggled in next to him. It was such a peaceful moment, the two of them watching their son, the only sound from the periodic shutter from the camera. He didn’t want to talk too loud to disturb it. “You’re incredible at this, Lydia. I mean, you were like a champion when he was born. But since then, in the everyday things like holding him and feeding him and figuring out how to be a mom? I mean, I didn’t think anything could top seeing you walking down the aisle to me in your wedding dress. But...I’m pretty sure this tops it.”

 

There wasn’t a response from Lydia, and he realized with a smile that she had fallen asleep in the chair against his arm.

 

Laura turned and her eyes widened and she mouthed a silent  _ aaw! _ She lifted up her camera and raised a questioning eyebrow to Stiles, who gave a slight nod in affirmation. He kept hold of Lydia’s hand and closed his eyes, leaning his head toward her. He heard the camera shutter, but he didn’t open his eyes, just took a deep breath or two to savor the moment. He only moved when he heard Nolan’s squeaks of hunger.

 

He slowly eased himself out from under Lydia’s head, gently turning it so it was propped against the back of the chair. He moved along the floor to Nolan, picking him up and settling him against his bare chest again. He didn’t need to eat for another half-hour or so, so he decided to let Lydia get a little bit of sleep. He took a diaper into their bedroom and changed Nolan, throwing a t-shirt on before picking the baby back up and settling him in his arms with a pacifier.

 

He said goodbye to Laura and then stood in the doorway of Nolan’s room, watching Lydia sleep peacefully in the chair.

 

“Buddy,” he said softly to the dozing baby in his arms, “that woman right there is one of the most incredible women on the planet. You are so lucky to have her for your mama.”

 

Nolan made a soft whimpering noise, which Stiles took as affirmation that he, too, thought Lydia was incredible.

 

“I’m glad you agree. Now, let’s go watch the Mets until mama wakes up, alright? Syndergaard is on the mound tonight.”

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Design inspirations for this story:
> 
> Nursery: https://www.apartmenttherapy.com/rockys-star-wars-nurserynurser-159366  
> Periodic Table signs: https://www.etsy.com/listing/253836824/nursery-room-decor-kids-custom-sign  
> Picture on Stiles’ desk: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/328903579017706396/visual-search/?x=16&y=11&w=530&h=354
> 
>  
> 
> Stydia's son Nolan Stilinski is named after Nolan Ryan, an MLB pitcher who started his career with the Mets, NOT the Nolan from 6b because DUH, 6b DOESN’T EXIST NEVER DID CAN’T CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.
> 
> Lauren, this is for you. I'm so excited to virtually meet your little one--the first baby in the Stydia fandom. Since I can't be there to gift you an actual newborn photo session, I thought I'd gift you Stydia's instead. I hope you like it. :)
> 
> I know every writer says it, but please please please leave me a comment and/or kudos. Tell me you liked it, tell me you hated it, tell me something. (otherwise I'll just have to keep writing sterek fics for the feedback. haha)


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